


Bright White

by SugarMagic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Time, M/M, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6192628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarMagic/pseuds/SugarMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very simply, the simultaneously intense and fumbling first time between Yamaguchi and Tsukishima.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bright White

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AuspiciousWhiskers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuspiciousWhiskers/gifts).



> I wrote this piece for my best friend Whiskers as an awkward surprise gift of unsolicited porn that nobody asked for. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I'm lucky to have a best friend that puts up with my silliness.

It’s easy to take Tsukki’s size for granted after spending a childhood watching him grow from behind, rising to this height right before your eyes at a pace too slow for you to notice until he was already there. You forget how tall he is sometimes, how his height gob-smacks people, but you’re sure-as-hell aware of it now. There’s no way you can stop yourself from noticing how much bigger he is than you, not when he’s got you crowded against your bedroom wall, back bowed into an elegant arch as he stoops down to kiss you. The subtle appeal of his tongue teasing your upper lip is so light compared to the force of the feeling that bursts in your chest in reply. You make a weird sound into his mouth when you open up to him, moan when his tongue hooks up behind your teeth, and he exhales through his nose, slow and measured and warm against your skin. His reactions are so controlled, so quiet, and you feel like an idiot because yours are blaring loud, and you don’t know what you’re doing.

You’re hard in your shorts, have been since before he even kissed you, since he twisted the lock closed on your bedroom door without a word and then turned to catch you in the sweep of his dark gaze. Now his long fingers are skimming down your sides and tucking up under your shirt – the first graze of his fingertips against the bare skin of your stomach makes you flinch. Your hips twitch forward into his before you can stop yourself - the friction of it is so good, so good and so humiliating. He can feel that you’re hard, there’s no way to hide it. You want to vanish into nothing, but in the same heartbeat you never want to stop clinging to him with your hands scrambling at his back, never want to stop the slow press of your dick against his thigh that you hadn’t realized you were doing. Tsukki is kissing you and you’re grinding against his leg like a pervert, but at the same time, he hasn’t stopped you. He’s letting you do it, and all in a starburst, a million other visions of what else he might allow explode into your brain to suggest that you take a risk for once in your life, do something reckless. But Tsukki is your best friend, the most precious person in your world, and you just can’t. So you break away from his kiss with a gasp and pant against his collarbone before your thoughts can drag you any further than they already have.

You close your eyes and just breathe there for a moment, clambering for the courage to look up into his face. His wide hand sliding up you back emboldens you, and what you see makes your insides twist and pulse – the wet shine of his mouth, the florid blush on his high cheekbones, the blackness of his eyes with pupils so dilated that the amber of them has all but vanished. He’s staring back at you and you’re transfixed, so hypnotized that you don’t notice his hand moving until his palm is already grinding down against your hard-on.

“Tsukki-!” you yelp, shocked, too turned on. He ignores you, and your shirt is up and over your head, dropped to the floor before you’d realized he was going for it. Your fingers twitch at your sides with the effort of keeping yourself from reaching for something to hide behind. You’re not like him, not glorious and stunning, not well-muscled and lean. His deft hands are untangling the knotted drawstrings of your shorts and he’s sinking to his knees. The fear has you paralyzed and you can only watch in frozen panic as he tugs off both the shorts and underwear in one fluid move, your erection bobbing free right in front of his face. He eyes your cock with appraisal, and even if he’s seen your ugly, lanky body a hundred times in the Kurasuno changing room, this is nothing, nothing like that, and it’s only a matter of seconds before his face is going to go blank with that neutral expression you know to mean annoyed disgust. You tip your head back to stare at the ceiling because you don’t want to see it. How will you look him in the eye after this, after he’s seen you in this state and decided he doesn’t want -

“Stop it, Yamaguchi.” The low pitch of his words cuts through your thoughts. “Enough already.”

“I’m- I’m not doing anyt-” Your words fail into a startled cry as he licks a languid stripe up the underside of your cock. He lingers at the tip, pressing the flat of his tongue to the leaking head and watching you jerk, intense eyes boring into you before drawing back.

“Liar. Stop thinking. I don’t want to see that look on your face again.”

You didn’t even know you were making a face, didn’t – but whatever you were thinking dies mid-synaptic leap as the tip of his tongue glides over the slit, and your mind fizzles out into empty static. He lavs again, testing things, analyzing. His eyes flick up and search over your face, and you can’t not stare back into them, even though you want to tell him not to look at you, tell him that you’re the one who should be on your knees for him. But you don’t, you can’t, can’t do anything but groan, close your eyes, run one hand through his hair and grip his shoulders like lifeline.

Tsukki makes little humming noise, and that’s all the warning you get. He opens for you, pink lips parting and then his mouth is hot around you in a sudden plunge. Your fingers dig into his shirt to keep yourself from doubling over as he bobs his head once, tongue dragging against the underside, experimental and slow and so damn good. His glasses yank at your nest of curls often enough for it to hurt and you don’t care. It seems to bother him, though, because he draws back to take them off and fold the stems shut with both hands. His weight shifts to one hip and he casually reaches to set them on your nightstand, composed and as indifferent as ever, like he hadn’t just had your dick in his mouth. He returns and he’s engulfing you again and it’s way, way, way too much.

You’re about to come and he knows it, probably from the way your cock pulses hard inside his mouth. His thumb and forefinger go around the base, squeezing tight enough that it’s almost painful, pulls himself off with a wet pop and glares up at you.

“Don’t you dare.”

“S-Sorry, Tsukki.”

The apology is reflexive and breathy, but he looks far from placated. Instead he clicks his tongue and climbs to his feet, turning his back to you.

“Get on the bed.”

A gasp catches in your suddenly dry throat and your now untouched cock twitches in time with the low pulses of want in your belly. The implication might be imagined, might be your hopes running away with you, but-

“I told you to lay down,” he commands, and you clamor up onto the comforter, practically tripping over your own feet.

“Do you have any lube?” he asks as you settle onto your back, and the question baffles you. Your ability to process words failed you long ago, so you gape at him, idiotic, until he sighs and drops a hand to his hip. He’s still got his pants on, still has everything on, and meanwhile you’re laid out before him naked on your bed. “What do you jerk off with?”

“Umm…” you start, but lack the courage to form a real reply. Instead, you roll onto your stomach to root through your nightstand drawer. The little bottle of lotion you produce is snatched from your fingers without a word. He snaps the lid open and holds it to his nose, looking at you with criticism.

“It’s scented. It smells like pine.”

“Sorry…”

He turns the bottle and brings it close to his face to read, scanning the label.

“Whatever. It’ll have to do.”

He turns away from you and his hands go to his pants. The sound of his zipper and the clink of his belt make your heart race, and you don’t even try to keep yourself from staring as he shucks out of his jeans. His ass is half-curtained beneath his shirt, and you bite into your lip to keep yourself from making sounds – gasping, or moaning, or something else embarrassing. He flips the lid of the lotion open again and squeezes a dollop into his palm. His hands are shaking, too. You hadn’t noticed that before.

“Tsukki…?”

He startles, glares over his shoulder at you like you’re guilty. But he comes to your side to sit on the edge of the bed, dropping down with a sigh. You sit up, leaning close, and search your mind for anything you could do next, steeling yourself to go with the first thing that occurs to you.

“Can I, um…?” You grab the hem of his shirt instead of asking, and he tucks his head in a half-nod, practically glowering at you. It’s unreasonably comforting, realizing you’re not the only one - Tsukki is embarrassed, nervous too. You pull the shirt up slowly, revealing belly button and abdominals and chest by inches, careful to keep the cuff of the sleeve dry as you pull it past his lotion-filled hand. You lean in to steal kisses from him, cupping his face with one hand and dropping the shirt with the other. He hums against your lips, taking and giving, until he turns his head and puts distance between you to climb onto his knees and reach a hand between his legs.  
You expect him to reach for his cock, but he ignores it, moving down and past. He dips his chin and his hips twists a little where they are above your legs, and then you get it, you suddenly know what he’s doing. You can see articulate motions of his hands from where they move between his leg. He looks so sure, so competent, like he knows what he’s doing, like maybe he’s tried it. Maybe he’s planned this for a long time, for you.

“Tsukki…? How do you know wh- Have you…?”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” he deadpans. He grimaces and adds another finger. You watch, eager and terrified, waiting with a hammering heart until he draws them out with a sigh. Tsukki pushes you back flat to the bed and walks forward on his knees, positioning himself.

“Don’t move,” he orders, and grips your cock by the base to guide you in.

It takes a few fumbled presses. On the third try, the angle is perfect, and the tip breaches into his body. It knocks the wind out of you and Tsukki just exhales, controlled and quite, holding himself still and aloft, powerful thighs aquiver. He’s got his eyes closed and his brow is just barely knit, looking like he’s ruminating on some elaborate puzzle. It’s taking everything you’ve got not to seize his hips and force him down, fuck up into his body until the pleasure dizzies him and he collapses into your arms. But this is Tsukki you’re touching, Tsukki who’s in charge, and you could no more act against his will than you could breathe on the moon. You stay still, save for the trembling you that can’t help.

He must see the yield in you, because he tosses his chin back and smirks - that confident, condescending smirk that no one but you understands. He doesn’t look at you like that because you’re weak. He looks down at you like that because he know he’s strong. He knows how bad you want him, how easy it would be to make you beg. He knows that you are in his power, and so his lip curls up and his eyes go a little predatory, and he drops himself down to take your cock in one long, easy grind.  
You gasp and dig your fingers into his thighs, bite into your lip to keep yourself from coming on the spot. It’s too much, too tight and hot and perfect. He’s so beautiful, perched above you with his ass against your thighs and your cock buried deep inside the overwhelming heat of his body - you can’t even look at him for what it’s doing to your heart. You squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head to the side, desperate for some kind of relief from the intensity of it all, of being here, of feeling this, of watching the guy you’ve always been in love with spear himself on your cock.

He doesn’t allow it. He snatches your chin and makes you face him, and you know it’s because he wants to watch you lose it. Tsukki’s always been like that, always been one to look at someone else’s desperation through a lens of cruel delight, and you’re so lucky, so lucky that you get to be the person he looks down his nose at, watching you like a bored god glancing at his domain.

You can’t stand it, can’t manage stillness for another second and you thrust up into him, just once. He jolts and tosses his head back, straightening with hands braced against your abdomen. His lips part on a half-note of sound - he tips his chin forward and his mouth lolls slightly open, like maybe he’s feeling it too, a little bit. His eyes are scrunching up in a squint and yours are barely open, barely taking in the sight of him without losing it.

“Give me back my glasses,” he orders. You scramble to obey him, flinging an arm out to grope for them on the nightstand. But all you manage is to nudge them out of your reach, and Tsukki makes an put-upon sound before leaning over you to retrieve them himself. His chest hovers in front of your face, strong and wide, and you bring your hand up to touch his ribs in reverence. He’s so amazing, so perfect – He’s Tsukki, and you’re just you, just the weak player with boring face and the babyish freckles, and he knows how super lame you are, and he wants you anyway. It’s unbelievable, just completely insane, and you press your face into his skin and try to convince yourself that you’re not going to wake up alone in your bed tomorrow morning, wet with the sticky evidence of all of this being a dream.

Settling back, he looks at your face and half-grins. The length of you that slid out is re-engulfed with a slow roll of his hips, and you’re moaning, can’t stop moaning, and the more noise you make the more self-satisfied he becomes. He rocks himself on your cock, taking his pleasure and watching you receive yours, and when he picks one hand up to jerk himself off, you lose the last of your illusions of control.

“Tsu- Tsukki-” you stutter out, “I can’t, Tsukki, I can’t, I’m gonna-”

“Do it,” he interrupts, and grinds down like he wants you to pierce his core.

You have no more resistance, no reason not to obey, and you come inside of him. Your voice echoes in your own ears, a wild, desperate shout, your hips stuttering in uncontrolled little thrusts. Your hands scramble at his hips and you fight yourself to get your eyes open in time to watch him bring himself over the edge. His body pulses around your oversensitive cock still nestled within him. His come paints across your stomach. You try not to black out.  
And the moment ends, too intense to last forever. Each of you stay like that for a moment, frozen in the aftermath until he brings himself up and off, collapsing onto his side. Your mind is a buzz of mindless joy and delighted confusion, and you have no answer for this, for how you can be so lucky to have something like this - something like Tsukki - happen to you. You lay on your back, chest heaving for breath, stupefied and in wonder at the gravity of it all, pulling you in and trapping your heart in this moment. Tsukki is curled onto his side, away from you, so when you turn your head to look at him, all you can see is the milky expanse of his back and the his tousled honey hair. You love him. You wonder if you should tell him so.

But you come to the awareness that he’s making wet, snuffling noises and his shoulders are shaking a little when he breathes in. Crying. Cold icicle panic spears through your fulfilled warmth. A thousand explanations for his tears present themselves – he’s disgusted with himself, he’s disgusted with you, he wishes he had done this with someone who’s worth it. You’re marveling at something he wishes he could undo. Hurt and sickness blacken your insides, and you want to cry, but your first responsibility is to Tsukki and your heartbreak has to wait.

“Tsukki…?” you ask, hesitant and afraid.

“Damn it… How lame.” He props himself up on his elbows, takes his glasses off with one hand and swipes at his eyes with the other. “I didn’t think I’d cry. I’m acting like a girl.”

“You're not!” you squawk before you even really comprehend what he's talking about. “I don't think you are. And it's not lame, Tsukki.” You're babbling, and he looks unimpressed. “It was- um, this happened really fast. But it's- It's the most amazing thing I've ever felt, Tsukki. And, and I got to feel it with you. So I don't want you to cry, because for me, it was...” He says nothing, does nothing but look you in the eye with pink in his cheeks, blinking fast. Your courage wanes and you swallow.

“We can…” The words sour in you mouth, but you force them out anyway, because Tsukki is more important to you than you are to yourself. “We can forget this happened, if that’s what you want.”

“What are you talking about?” He perches his glasses again and watches at you behind them, guarded.

“I thought - I mean, you're crying, I haven't seen you cry since we were ten...” Something stiffens in him at your words and you feel sick and stop looking at him, laying back down under the blanket. “This was a mistake for you, huh…? I-”

“Are you an idiot?” he cuts you off, sharp, and you startle. “Of course not. That's not why I'm crying.”

“Then, wh-?”

“Think about it.” The words are deadpanned but there's something blithe in the way he's looking at you. It's making your throat get tight and you feel like you're going to be the one crying in a few seconds, making you bite the inside of your lips. 

“Do you- Tsukki, can we-?” He’s looking at you with bemusement. You swallow and close your eyes. “Will you go out with me, Tsukki?”  
He snorts, and you peek at him with one eye. He’s moving, sliding up beside you. He tucks his head into the crook of your shoulder and tugs your blanket over the two of you.

“Don’t be an idiot, Yamaguchi” he answers, and you smile a little, because you knew he’d say something like that. This is Tsukki, after all - you know him well enough to understand that sometimes his yes sounds like no if you don't know how to hear it right. But that's what it is. A yes. And even if you don't get why he'd want you, it doesn't stop the euphoria from overcoming you, spilling over in the tears both of you have been trying to fight.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” you mutter, and you draw your arms around his shoulders so you can hug him tight.


End file.
